8 Of Ghosts & Notebooks
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: Newt was sick. Very very sick. And Minho wasn't ready to lose him.


-Of Ghosts &amp; Notebooks-

-Sooo, here I am, writing Minewt again! This one is more serious than some of my other ones. This is a modern version of what happens when Newt finds out he has the Flare, and needs to learn to live with the disease. There's also a very scary moment in here for Minho...

Warning: this has quite a few emotional scenes, which I sometimes teared up at because omg, poor Newt and poor Minho. But you have to read to know what I'm talking about! :P

If you like my little story, please leave a review. They're very welcome and always make me happy to see. Any more Minewt requests? You can leave those too :)

Once again, enjoy the story!-

It began too soon.

After the first doctor's appointment, they thought it was nothing.

After the second, they realized it might be more.

By the third, the test results had come back. They were positive. Positive for the rarest, incurable disease on the planet. Thankfully, it was one of the strains that wasn't fatal. But it was very serious. The illness had many names, created over the years: the Ghost Virus, Insanity, the Flare, the Crazies. It ate at your brain until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of who you used to be. And that was if you survived. But the less serious strains could be treated and managed well enough, with medicine. But the medicine couldn't help everything.

It didn't help the excruciating headaches.

It didn't help the sudden changes of mood.

It didn't help the way you saw things, things that crawled up walls and under your bed.

It was hell.

And Newt had it.

-x-x-x-

It was early afternoon when Minho walked through the front door of his house. He shut it carefully behind him, making sure to switch his guitar case to his other hand. Taking a few steps inside, he glanced around. The white walls of the hallway were clean and bright. Sunlight spilled from the living room windows across the carpeted floor. He spotted Coal at one corner of the couch. She was curled up in a tight ball of red-white-and-black fur, her golden eyes wide. Her ears were pinned back, as though she'd seen a ghost, and she was quiet. That was unusual. Minho felt a prickle of the new unease that had taken over his life since the past month.

He ventured farther into the house, leaving his guitar case leaning against a wall. He'd only reached the doorway to the kitchen when something clacked under his boot. Blinking, he lifted his foot and saw a little doll; one of Annabelle's toys. He bent to pick it up, holding it absently as he looked around for the little girl. "Belle?" he called, cautious to break the silence. "Honey, you here?"

A small voice answered from behind him. "I'm here."

Minho turned around to see her sitting cross-legged beside the couch. Her stuffed animals were scattered around her, seemingly forgotten. Her green eyes held a gleam of something in them. Minho started toward her. "Why're you out here, all by yourself? You playing with your toys?"

She shook her head. "No, not right now," she replied. Her fingers played with the hem of her T-shirt; it was red, with a picture of a white heart stamped on the front.

"Oh, okay." Minho knelt down beside her, giving her back her doll. She took it wordlessly. He searched her expression, growing more and more unnerved. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asked softly.

Belle glanced up at him through locks of wavy, auburn hair. She pointed down the hall that led to the bedrooms. "Daddy has a headache," she told him matter-of-factly.

Minho's stomach twisted with dread. "He does?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

"Mm-hm." She combed her fingers through the hair of her doll. "He told me he needed to sleep for a while. So I left him alone."

"That's good. You know the medicine makes him tired."

"Yeah, but he wasn't sleeping. I heard him."

Minho stilled. "...what, Belle?"

Belle glanced down that hall again, as though afraid. Then she leaned in toward Minho. "He's talking to the things again," she whispered. "Tellin' em to go away."

Minho looked away from her, because he didn't want her to see the pain in his face. He wasn't going to do this to her. She didn't deserve that. Steeling himself, he faced her with a reassuring smile. "He's fine," he told her, putting as much feeling in his voice as he could. "He probably thought he saw Coal and was telling her to leave so he could sleep. Okay? You know Daddy's medicine makes him a little weird, right?"

Belle nodded."Yeah, I knew that," she answered, a bit proudly.

"Good. As long as you give him some space, he'll be fine." He placed a hand on Belle's shoulder. She seemed calmer now. "I'm gonna go see him now, so you just stay here with Coal. Keep her company, okay?"

"Okay." She smiled sweetly at him and he dropped a kiss on her forehead.

Minho watched her fiddle with her stuffed animals for a few moments. His heart swelled for his daughter, but it was quickly replaced by that feeling of dread. Something was seriously wrong with Newt. The same thing that had been wrong for the past few weeks. The medicine was working, sure. Newt's symptoms were..."manageable." He wasn't going to die of this illness. But he was still in pain, and it was killing Minho to watch.

Sighing, Minho left Belle with her toys and stood up. He stared down the darkened hallway, at the room at the very back. He didn't want to know what he'd find in there. But he had to go. Belle's soft voice faded behind him as he made his way down back toward the bedroom. He passed Belle's room, all pale blue walls and cheerful, white furniture. Golden rays of sunlight stained the floor. But from here, he could tell that although his bedroom door was open, all the blinds were drawn. The room was in darkness.

Minho reached the doorway and cautiously took a step inside. He paused. His throat ached at what he saw. The desk chair had been overturned. Two drawers were pulled open, clothes messily hanging from them. The bed sheets were rumpled and half-spilled on the floor. It looked like a crazy person lived there. Minho dragged a hand over his face, walking a little farther into the room. "Newt? You in here? I was just..." He broke off.

A figure was huddling in a corner, in sweatpants and an old white tee. It shuddered every once in a while. Newt's knees were drawn up to his chest as he hugged a pillow like his life depended on it. His fingers dug into the fabric so hard, it looked like it might rip. His blonde hair was tousled and falling across his face. He was staring at something unseen across the room, never acknowledging Minho.

Minho slowly rounded the bed and approached Newt with his heart sinking. "Newt?" he repeated, quieter now. "Are you okay?"

Newt gave a jerky little shudder and shook his head. He didn't say anything.

"Does anything hurt?" Minho bent down in front of his husband, searching his face intently. Newt's dark blue eyes were crazed and sickly, fixed on that same spot on the wall. He wasn't answering. Swallowing, Minho reached out to touch Newt's knee. "Newt..."

"No!" Newt's voice suddenly lashed out, as harsh as a whip. His socked feet slipped on the floor as he tried to push himself farther back into the corner. His eyes had gone fully wild with terror, as he looked at something invisible chasing him on the floor. Another strangled cry escaped him.

"Newt, Newt, look at me." Minho positioned himself closer to Newt, taking him by the shoulders. Newt looked right through him. "Newt, you have to look at me—"

"NO, they're coming, they're coming," Newt whimpered, raking his hands into his hair. "Get them away from me, please, get them away..."

Minho tightened his grip on Newt's shoulders. "Newt, please."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no..."

"Newt you have to look at me," Minho repeated firmly. He pressed his forehead to Newt's, noting the way the blonde shook violently. His heart broke. "Angel, please, look at me. There's nothing there, I promise."

Newt's breaths came in heaved gasps. His fingers clawed into the pillow again, searching for something to keep him safe. It was like talking to a person that wasn't really there. Gradually, the glazed look in his eyes faded away. His hold on the pillow loosened as he lifted his gaze to Minho's. Recognition flashed in his expression. Right before his eyes shattered. "Minho!" he gasped, flinging his arms around Minho's neck. He was crying instantly.

Minho folded Newt into his arms, hugging him close. He felt the blonde's body shake as tears soaked into his shirt. "Shhhh," he hushed. "Shhhhh, you're all right, now. You're safe." He rubbed his hands soothingly up and down Newt's back.

"Oh, Minho," Newt sobbed, burying his face in Minho's chest. "Minho, Minho, Minho..."

"I'm here. I'm here."

"Make it stop. Make them stay away from me, I can't take it anymore, I'll—"

"There's nothing there," Minho cut him off gently. He raised a hand to the back of Newt's head, stroking his hair. "Shhh, you're safe, now. My love, my angel, you're fine. You're with me." Newt sobbed again. His fingers clung to the back of Minho's shirt, wrinkling the denim in his hands. He was an absolute mess.

After a while, the tears stopped coming as much and Newt quieted in Minho's arms. Minho still held him, afraid to let go. "Did you take your medicine?" he asked.

"Yes," Newt mumbled, sounding slightly-less-crazy.

"All right." Minho exhaled, long and tired. "Was it a while ago? Do you think it's time to take it again?"

Newt craned his head to peer at the clock on the bedside table. He nodded. "Yeah..."

"Okay, I'm gonna go get it then." Minho began to pull away.

"No!" Newt grabbed for him, knotting his hands in the front of Minho's shirt. His eyes were too wide with terror again. "Don't leave me!"

Minho took Newt's hands in his own, removing them from his shirt and lacing their fingers. "It'll only be for a second," he tried, but Newt wouldn't have it.

"As soon as you leave, they come back. I don't wanna see them again." Newt gazed at Minho imploringly. He looked heartbreaking with his face tear-stained and his expression tight with fear. "Minho, please," he begged.

Minho was silent. Then he nodded. "You can come with me then," he told him. "I won't let them come back."

Newt nodded, shoulders slumping in relief. But when he tried to stand up with Minho, his legs shook and he nearly collapsed. Minho wanted to cry at what his husband had been reduced to. Tenderly, he bent down to lift Newt up into his arms, one under his knees and one under his back. Newt linked his hands instinctively behind Minho's neck and nosed into his chest. He rested there, trembling. Minho placed a kiss on the top of his head, then started to take him from the room.

Belle stared at them curiously when they reached the living room. Her face lit up when she saw Newt and she beamed at him. "Daddy!" she greeted cheerfully, waving. She'd taken to calling Newt "Daddy" and Minho "Dad," so that they knew which she was talking to.

Newt offered up a weak, wobbly smile. But then he turned his face from her, ashamed that she saw him like this. Minho sent Belle his brightest grin. "Hey, Daddy's just gotta go take more of his medicine," he called to her. "So can you stay with Coal for a little while longer for me?"

"Uh-huh!" Belle nodded vigorously. Then she went back to her dolls, brushing their hair while humming to herself. Strands of hair fell down around her face, turned to brilliant red by the sunlight.

Newt's body shuddered once in Minho's arms, prompting Minho to move faster into the kitchen. Maneuvering around the gleaming refrigerator and the island at the center, he stopped in front of a chair. He slid it out with his foot and carefully settled Newt into it. The blonde untangled himself reluctantly from his husband and sat with his knees again up by his chest. After making sure Newt was comfortable, Minho set out to get his medication. He grabbed a blue-and-white bottle from a cabinet and placed it on the counter in front of Newt, along with a glass of water. "There you go," he said warmly, a smile pulling his lips up.

Newt just looked at that glass of water like it was something to be wary of. Like things could come crawling out of it at any moment.

Minho's smile faltered. He came up behind Newt and set his hands on the blonde's shoulders. "Newt, you gotta take your medicine," he said, quietly assuring. He rubbed Newt's shoulders in slow circles. "All the pain's gonna go away, I swear. But you have to take it."

Newt finally nodded numbly. He reached with shaky fingers and unscrewed the cap. One, white pill clattered out. He swallowed it with one sip of water, tipping his head back. He winced as it went down. "Okay. I'm...okay," he whispered. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Minho knew that the medication kicked in quickly, but it would still take a little bit for Newt to feel completely normal. The doctor had assured them that after a while of taking the medicine, Newt's symptoms wouldn't be nearly as much of a problem as they were now. But they still had some time to get through before they reached that point. As for right now, Newt was experiencing the Flare as any other person would without medical attention. He was desperate for the medicine to begin working better.

"Just a little longer," Minho promised in a murmur. He carded his fingers through Newt's hair.

Newt sighed at Minho's touch. "Mm-hm."

"You wanna go back to sleep?"

"..."

"Nothing will come after you. I'll come back with you again."

"...make sure I'm safe?" Newt asked in a thin voice, tinged with a bit of embarrassment for asking.

Minho bent down and pecked Newt's cheek. "Of course, always," he murmured. "I'll always keep you safe, you know that."

Newt seemed satisfied with that, so he started to unfold his legs and stand up. This time was better, since he wasn't crying anymore, and he was able to straighten up without falling. Minho still kept a hand at Newt's lower back as he shuffled to the doorway. Arms wrapped around himself, Newt paused in the hall to watch Belle for a moment. She was busy singing some song, making her dolls dance along. Newt's expression softened. "She doesn't deserve this from me," he mumbled to Minho. "YOU don't deserve this from me."

"Don't talk like that." Minho touched Newt's chin and turned his face so that he'd look at him. "We'll get through this, the way we always do. Nothing about this is your fault."

Newt's blue eyes gazed into Minho's for a few seconds more. Something seemed to flicker in them. But he only took a deep breath and gave Minho a half-smile of gratitude. Then he was heading to the bedroom again. Minho trailed behind, thankful that Newt seemed to be feeling at least a little better.

They reached the bedroom again, and all its dimness. Minho ignored the mess for now and instead guided Newt to the bed. He'd clean it up later, after Newt had rested and felt more like himself. Newt let himself be led to the bed and then he turned to sit on the edge of it. Pushing one hand through his hair, he heaved a long breath. "Listen...I'm sorry," he said lowly. "For getting you involved in this too, I mean. I didn't mean for..." He trailed off as Minho cupped his face with both hands.

"Don't apologize," Minho replied. He stroked his thumbs over Newt's cheeks. "I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"But what if Belle sees me like that?" Newt demanded. "When I'm seeing things, or—or acting insane? I can't make her go through that. And you...You shouldn't have to go through that either."

"Newt, you're my husband," Minho whispered affectionately. "I'll go through anything for you. I love you."

Newt stared at him. When he spoke again, his voice was shaky. "I love you too, Min."

Minho leaned down and kissed Newt's forehead, his lips lingering. Then he drew back again. "Get some sleep, sweetheart," he said softly. "Later on, I'll come and—"

Suddenly, Newt grabbed Minho's arms, gazing up at him worriedly. "Please stay with me," he said. "I don't wanna be in here alone."

Minho looked into Newt's eyes and he wanted to. He wanted to curl up with him under the blankets, and feel him in his arms, assure himself that his husband was going to be okay. But Belle couldn't be left alone for that long. "Newt..."

"Just for a little while?" Newt tried.

Minho caved. "I'll stay until you fall asleep," he decided. "And I'll check on you later, when you wake up. Is that okay?"

Newt thought, and then nodded.

Minho pushed his shoes off onto the floor and made to round the bed to his side. "Let me just—" He broke off when Newt reached up and snagged him by the front of his shirt. He felt himself being tugged forward. Part of him was going to protest, but Newt looked so beautiful and in pain, that Minho gave in.

Newt pulled him forward onto the mattress, backing up as he did to make space beside him. They slipped under the covers together. Minho opened his arms to Newt and the blonde immediately buried himself against Minho's chest. Head tucked under Minho's chin, he made a sound of bliss, content for the first time in God knew how long. Minho wrapped his arms around his angel and nosed his hair. They were silent for several minutes, except for their breaths in the air. Then Newt jerked a little, body tensing up. And Minho knew he was starting to hallucinate again and that it would take a minute for the medicine to fight it off.

Very gently, Minho slid one hand up and down Newt's arm, feeling the shivering of the skin beneath him. Closing his eyes, he hummed a few bars of a song under his breath. His fingers kept tracing that same path along Newt's arm. Newt's gasp told him that whatever he was seeing was bad; the blonde shut his eyes and pressed himself, trembling, against Minho. Minho kept humming to him in the dark.

The song only sounded wrong once, when he couldn't hold back his tears anymore.

-o-o-o-

It was three days later when Minho came home to a half-empty house.

Belle was gone, over at a friend's for a sleepover. Minho had dropped her off and was just now getting back. The house was eerily silent when he arrived, closing and locking the door behind him. Not a thing moved and all the lights were shut off. Coal was curled up in a corner, fast asleep. A strand of black hair hadn't stayed spiked and Minho was absently brushing it out of his face as he walked. He kept glancing around, looking for any sign of Newt. There was none.

A cold pit of dread was beginning to open inside of him. Newt wasn't supposed to go out anywhere until the medication dealt with his sickness better. He'd had to quit his job at Framed and was forbidden to drive for the time being. There was nowhere else he could be, unless he'd walked. And why would he leave? There wasn't anywhere to go. Minho had a bad feeling about this. Newt might be hurt. He might've locked himself in a room to scream at creatures that weren't there. He might've lost his mind entirely.

Minho made his way into the kitchen, scanning the room. He glimpsed the bottle of pills on the counter, as though someone had just taken one. So Newt had to be nearby. "Newt? Where are you?" Minho halted dead in his tracks.

There was a notebook lying on top of the kitchen island. It was small, and beaten up from use. The paper was crinkled at the corners. It had been left open to a page halfway through. Writing was scrawled along the lines in a hurried manner. Minho recognized Newt's handwriting and the dread inside of him grew even more. He walked to the island and braced his hands on it to read the note. It was fairly short.

Dear Minho,

I'm sorry.

I just couldn't hold on anymore. I tried, I swear, I tried. I don't know if you'll ever read this, but I had to write it before I left.

I hope I see you again someday.

I love you.

Yours Forever,

Newt

Minho barely got to the last sentence before he was ripping his phone out of his pocket and frantically dialing. He called Newt's cell first. It rang and rang and rang, and all the while, he was fighting back tears. It went to voicemail. "Dammit!" He nearly threw his phone down in frustration and this new, all-consuming fear. Lacing his fingers at the back of his neck, he paced restlessly. Newt wouldn't answer, of course he wouldn't answer. Not if he was going to—

Minho snatched his phone from the table again and punched in another number. This time, he only had to wait a moment before someone picked up. "Hello?" Alby's voice came through, deep and clear.

"Alby, do you know where Newt is?" Minho demanded in a steely voice.

"Newt?" Alby echoed in confusion. "No, I haven't seen him."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure, yeah."

Minho stopped his pacing and leaned on the marble island with his other arm, bowing his head into his elbow. He imagined all the things that could be happening to Newt right now, and what Newt could be doing to himself. He felt sick. He hadn't bothered to answer Alby.

"Minho, is something wrong?" Alby asked warily.

"No, I—I gotta go," Minho stammered hastily. He hung up on Alby. It wasn't that he wanted to hide what was happening. He had to call as many people as he could, to find out where Newt was, and he couldn't waste a second explaining. Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he called Teresa next. She was always in touch with everyone. She had to know something.

There was a click. "Hey, Minho! What's up?" Teresa, as cheerful as ever.

Minho had no time for that. "Teresa, listen to me. Have you seen Newt at all today?"

"No, of course not," Teresa answered. "Isn't he supposed to stay inside for a while? I mean, I didn't think he was allowed to drive."

"He wasn't." It came out icy. Minho didn't mean to sound harsh with her. But all he could think of was his precious angel, and how he was so close to losing him. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. They were supposed to be together. The tears that had been burning the backs of his eyes finally started to spill out, racing down his face. Teresa was saying something at the other end of the line, asking him what was going on and if something had happened to Newt. Minho backed up without a word, until his back met the stove. He slid down it to the floor, holding his phone to his ear and his free hand over his eyes.

Teresa's voice came again, high with puzzlement and shock. "Minho, are you crying?"

Minho choked out a sound that could've come from a dying person. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," he whimpered, hardly aware of himself speaking. "I'm not ready, God, please, I'm not ready."

"What is happening?" Teresa asked him firmly. "What're you talking about? Where's Newt?"

"I don't know!" Minho sobbed, lashing out at her through the phone. His chest throbbed as he struggled to pull himself together. "He—he left a note, and now he's gone!"

"Okay, okay. You have to calm down, Minho, or you'll never find him. What did the note say?"

"Th—that he was leaving and he hoped he'd s—see me again."

Teresa seemed to be digesting that. Her silence was only more of a confirmation.

"He's gonna do it, isn't he?" Minho choked out, strangled. "It was too much for him, and he's saying goodbye." He sobbed again at the word "goodbye," hugging his knees with his arm and dropping his face onto them. "He's tried to kill himself before and it didn't work, and now he's trying again. Oh god, Teresa, he's gonna commit suicide and leave me here."

"You don't know that for sure," she protested. "He could be fine. Maybe he wanted to take a walk or something."

"He'd tell me! He'd wait for me to come home! And he wouldn't write a note like that!"

"Minho, please, calm down."

"What did I do wrong?" Minho had never felt so unhinged before, had never felt his much terror. "I can't live without him, I'll die, Teresa. Tell me, please, what did I do, why did he do this to me?"

"Minho..." Teresa sounded heartbroken.

"Why did he leave me? I thought he loved me more than this, dammit, I thought he loved me." Minho squeezed his eyes shut. "Teresa, help me. Please, help me. I—"

A sudden footstep in the doorway made Minho freeze in the middle of his sentence. There was a moment of nothing, and then. "...Minho?"

Minho's head jerked up and his wild, scared eyes fixed on the blonde standing just inside the kitchen. His heart stopped beating.

Newt was studying Minho in concern, brow furrowed. He wore lazy clothes: gray sweatpants and one of Minho's old track hoodies. He was perfectly fine. "Min, are you all right? What's happening?"

Teresa was still talking in Minho's ear. "Minho? Minho? Is that NEWT?"

But Minho barely heard her. His phone dropped onto the floor with a clatter as he scrambled to his feet. He crossed the room in two strides and threw his arms around Newt. "Newt," he gasped out raggedly. He held Newt against him as close as he could, soaking in his presence. "Don't ever do that to me again! I can't—I thought—I saw your note..."

"The note?" Newt blinked. "I was looking through some old things, Minho. That note's from years ago. It's from when I first tried to...to kill myself. I wrote it for you, but never sent it."

Overwhelming relief crushed Minho. Newt was alive. He was okay. He wasn't going to hurt himself. Minho made a tiny sound and nuzzled into Newt's neck. "I thought you were g—gone," he stuttered, and then he was crying openly. He clung to Newt for dear life and cried like Newt HAD actually committed suicide.

"Oh, Min, I'm sorry." Newt brought his arms up around Minho, pulling him in closer. He rested his chin on Minho's broader shoulder and closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you'd find it and think this."

"Don't let me go," Minho hiccuped around his sobs.

"I won't, I swear it." Newt slipped his hands under the back of Minho's shirt, kneading his back in an attempt to calm him. When Minho still trembled, Newt kissed his neck once. "Don't cry, love," he hushed. "I'm right here. My darling, I'm safe, I'm in your arms."

Minho waited until his body stopped shaking and the ache in his chest faded. When he was sure he wouldn't burst into tears again, he pulled back a bit to wipe his face with his hand. Then he looked at Newt, his beautiful, gorgeous Newt. He kept his arms secure around Newt's waist as he kissed his neck, his jaw, his cheek, his nose, and then his mouth, all whisper-soft. He leaned their foreheads together and exhaled roughly. "I thought I lost you," he whispered hoarsely. "I've never been so scared."

A smile touched Newt's lips and he cradled Minho's face with one hand. "I would never leave you like that, Minho," he murmured. "I have so much to live for now. Our friends, Belle, and you. You don't have to worry about that ever again. I love you, and I'll always love you."

Minho thanked God above that he had Newt, and that he got to keep him for the rest of his life. He let his eyes fall shut, with Newt still holding him. "Promise me," he breathed. "Promise me that no matter what, even with the Flare or whatever else happens, that you'll stay with me." He opened his eyes again and met Newt's. "Because I love you too much to let you go now."

Newt kissed Minho's mouth lightly and whispered, "I promise."


End file.
